


Dynasty

by Fernlom



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17517248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fernlom/pseuds/Fernlom
Summary: The grandson of Henry Stein answers the letter to Joey Drew Studios.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of my Bendy and the Ink Machine story.

Hank dug through the dusty boxes of his grandad's attic. Grandpa Henry dies only a few days back, and Hank’s dad asked him to help clean out his old house. 

He found old drawings, little plushies, pictures of his grandad with people in some old studio, and a letter. 

It was addressed to Henry, but never opened. The return address said “Joey Drew Studios” Hank doesn’t bother reading more, he remembered the rambling stories Grandpa Henry told of old Joey Drew Studios. 

Curious, Hank opens the letter and reads,

“Dear Henry,

It seems like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. 30 years really slips away doesn’t it? 

If you’re back in town come visit the old workshop. There’s something I need to show you. 

Your Best pal,

Joey Drew”

Hank read the letter over a couple times. Grandpa Henry said he never went back to that studio after getting drafted in the War. Apparently this “Joey Drew” was so furious at Henry he swore to never allow him to come back. 

“Huh, old cartoon studio? Sounds freaky.” Hank puts the letter in his jacket pocket and hops downstairs out of the attic. 

Horace, his dad, looks up to him as he cleans a table. “Hey son, how’s it going up there?” 

“Pretty cool dad, found this weird letter from Joey Drew Studios” Hank pulls the letter out of his pocket and hands it to his dad. 

Horace takes the the letter and looks it over. “Hmm, you want to keep it?”

“I want to check the studio out! Gramps said he could never go back there, yet here’s a letter inviting him back, but he never even opened it!” Hank takes the letter back “we need to see what’s there! What did Mr. Drew want to show him?”

Horace narrows his eyes, “fine, help me move this table in the truck and we’ll head over.” 

“HA! SWEET!” Hank grins, stuffing the letter in his pocket. Horace rolls his eyes and sets his rag down.

The two move the table out, and get in Horace’s old truck. 

“So, do you know where the studio is dad?” Hank buckles his seatbelt. 

“Oh yeah, your grandpa took me there a couple times before, we just never went in. I asked him a few times why we’d never go in” Horace starts the truck, the engine roaring to life, “he’d never let me know, only saying he couldn’t.” 

They drive in silence for a while, only the sounds of the engine and other cards on the road to fill the gap. 

The studio alone in an empty, dusty lot. A large building, with an even larger, more elaborate sign identifying it as “Joey Drew Studios: Where Dreams Become Reality” 

Around the studio and lot was a black iron fence, placed at points are pillars of stone, utop them were carefully carved statues of the various cartoon characters of the studio, along with video reals, paint easels, and musical instruments. 

Hank and Horace step out of the truck and approach the large curved gate. A note is seen attached to the metal bars. 

“CLOSED. KEEP OUT. UNLESS HENRY JONES. HENRY PLEASE COME IN, WE HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU”

“Ok come on, we have to go in and see!” Hank pulls the note off the gate and stuffs it in his pocket. 

Horace sighs and walks up, “weird, there is no lock on this gate.” He pushes the gate and it quickly glides open. “Wow, this gate as been standing shut for years, yet it opens like it’s brand new!” 

“Come on, you have to be getting curious now!” Hank grins, walking through the gate, Horace following close behind. 

The gate slowly closes behind them with a soft ‘click’ locking back into place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Wally

The two of them start walking to the large carved wooden doors. The inside of the studio was spotless, the floors glisten as if they were freshly waxed. 

A faint whistling tune echoed through the studio, slowly getting closer. 

“Uhm..hello?” Horace calls out. 

“Huh? Hello? Someone actually out there?” a shuffle of feet stomping on board and keys jingling is heard as the figure approaches. 

Soon a man stands before them. Not too tall, dark chocolate skin tone with bouncing black hair and a kind, if not mischievous grin. 

“Hey there, Wally Franks.” He nods with a wink. 

“Uhm..Horace..and Hank Jones.” Horace holds out his hand.

Wally’s reaches out, his arm shifting into a pillar of ink ending in a hand, to shake Horace’s. 

“Jones? You Henry’s boy then right?” 

Horace’s eyes widen as he shakes Wally’s…’hand’. 

“What the heck?” Hank stares, eyes wide, “how did you do that?”

“Do what?” Wally replies. “Oh wait, I forgot my bucket, hold on.”

Wally reaches behind him, his arm once more becoming a pillar of ink, wrapping around and snaking through the studio, all while Wally stands, a bored expression on his face.

Soon, the pillar returns, dragging a bucket and mop. 

“Ah, much better. Now do you two need a tour or somethin? I can go ask Sammy to come and take you guys around. “ 

“Uhm...no we’re good. “ Horace answers, still visibly shaken by Wally’s strange ink arms. 

“Ah, alright then, I got a whole studio to keep clean, so i best not be seeing either of you making a mess got it?” Wally narrows his eyes, pointing at both of them. 

Horace nods, Hank already starts walking off. Horace quickly follows behind. 

Hank stares in awe at the studio, the pristine posters advertising old cartoons, a room of pedestals each topped with a specific item. Gears, dolls, pens, and more. To the back a switch marked on and off, in the on position. 

To the center of the studio a large machine of pipes and gears rumbles, constantly pumping out ink. Next to the machine is a booth, inside is a cartoon dog, resting his head in his hands. 

It sees Hank and Horace approach and its ears perk up in attention, it waves and beckons them over. 

Hank quickly rushes up, Horace slowly, carefully follows. 

The dog holds up a sign saying “WELCOME TO JOEY DREW STUDIOS! WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE!” 

“Wow, dad its a cartoon!” Hank smiles. 

Horace looks up to the dog, then back to the nearby posters. 

“Boris.” Horace looks back to Boris, who nods happily and waves. “How in the hell….” 

Boris drops his sign, revealing another beneath it. 

“You two must be Henry’s family right?”

“what….how….uhm..Yes I am Horace, Henry’s son, this is my son Hank.” Horace narrows his eyes. 

“Well hello to you both! I am Boris the wolf!” Boris’ sign states. 

“so..uh..Boris. How are you...real?” Horace asks. 

Boris simply points at the ink machine. He drops his sign, another underneath. “You just gotta believe! Mr. Drew did and that’s how all of this came to be!” 

“I’m talking to a cartoon. I just saw a guy turn his arm to ink to grab his mop and bucket. I’m dreaming. I must be.” 

“Come on dad! Let’s go find more cartoons!” Hank rushes off, Horace desperately following behind. 

“Hold on son!” Horace catches him. “Let’s...let’s just quickly go back to the truck and grab some stuff ok?”  
“Uhm..sure dad we can do that.” Hank replies, confused. 

“Good” Horace sighs, taking Hank to the exit. 

CRACK

The floorboards underneath Horace’s feet begin to crack and break, soon giving way, plunging the two into the inky void underneath.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy and love

Hank groans, slowly sitting up on the hardwood floor. “Ugh, dad? You okay?” 

There is no reply, only the hushed whisper of a breeze blowing through the studio. Hank turns to look for his dad. 

A light gurgle catches Hank’s ears. Hanks faces the source, a mistake. 

When Horace fell, he didn’t reach the wood floor like his son, Horace fell onto an assembly of pipes. A mixture of blood and ink flowed down the pipes, into the ink pool beneath them. Pipes puncture Horace’s body at multiple points. Horace still twitches and coughs. 

Hank watches in horror as the ink slowly rises and covers Horace’s still twitching body. 

“Dad? Dad? DAD!” Hank screams and rushes over to the pipes and reaches into the ink, only finding pipes, his father gone. 

Hank yelled, reaching deeper into the ink, splashing the cursed pigment everywhere. 

“Dear child. Why do you make such a mess?” 

Hank looked up to the voice and screamed. 

Standing before him was a man with the head of the iconic “dancing demon” head, and flowing blonde hair, dressed in a white button up shirt and overalls, a banjo in his hands. 

The “almost bendy’ strums his banjo.

“W..who the heck are you?” Hank asks. “Where is my dad?”

“I am a prophet for our Lord Bendy. My name is Sammy Lawrence. As for your father, dear sheep, our Lord has taken him in to redeem his life. “ Sammy grins, his teeth shiny and white. 

“He what? Is he ok or not?!” Hank shouts in frustration. 

“Only time can tell that, sheep. Now come, We’ve been waiting for you for quite some time. “ Sammy turns and starts walking through the hallway, ink dripping from every corner of the ceiling. 

Hank follows, lead by the sound of the banjo. The slow drip of ink and the breeze the only other noise to fill the silence of the studio. 

“Sammy!” A voice echoes through the studio. 

Sammy stops walking and looks up to the roof “yes my lord?” 

A puddle of ink begins to swirl and grow between Sammy and Hank. Slowly, a horned figure emerges. 

Bendy stands between them, a playful grin on his face. Hank had to look up to see the face of the ink demon. Bendy was tall, his body perfect, ink formed to give the shape of a tuxedo and bowtie. 

“Well well well, you must be Hank. Henry’s grandson.”

“H..how do you…”

“I know a lot. Hey! I’m like your uncle! I’m Bendy! Bendy the Dancing Demon, welcome to Joey Drew Studios! We’ve had some trouble in our early years, but time can remedy anything! But hey, since we’re family I gotta be honest with ya pall. Some unsavory characters still roam these here halls, so let me tell ya, ya better be careful aight?” 

Hank could only manage a stuttering mumble in response. 

“Listen, Ol’ Mistah Drew aint the kindest soul still, and he still got a big bone to pick with your grandad. Hell! When he sent out that letter, this here workshop was in its absolute worst state! Ol Drew was trying to wrap him in a trap! Kill the old bastard! HA! Funny thing ey?”

Hank opened his mouth to speak, but Bendy kept talking. 

“So I’ll take you round the studio here, help you keep away from that Ol Drew m’kay?” 

“S..sure. Ok.” Hank finally replied.

“Alright, come on Sammy, let’s get some good walking music!”

“Yes my lord” Sammy smiles and bows, happily plucking the strings of his beloved instrument.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Joey Morgan Drew, my special boi

Hank tried is best to follow the Ink demon and his prophet, already tuning out his constant rambling. He instead focused on the ink drip along the walls. 

“And so then I told ‘em, ‘don’t you tell me I can’t picnic here!” 

Sammy laughs at Bendy’s lame joke, plucking away happily at the banjo in his hands. 

Static breaks through the hallway from the overhead speakers.

“Bendy Bendy Bendy, do you really think you can wander my halls with an outsider without me knowing? Bring him to me at once.” 

Bendy shudders “Yes Mistah Drew. Come on kid, let’s go meet the boss.”

Hank looks up to Bendy’s face, seeing worry and possible fear in the ink demon. 

“Ok…” Hank nods and follows behind Bendy. 

Bendy stops in front of a wall of ink. Sammy walks through the ink, leaving Bendy and Hank behind. 

“What...where did he go?” Hank looks up to Bendy. 

“Through.” Bendy chuckles, pushing Hank forward, into the ink. 

Hank screams as he tumbles through, landing on another wood floor, sitting in front of a large throne. 

On the throne sat a monolith of a man. Dressed in a spotless black and white tuxedo, two film reels protruding from his shoulders and a cane of pipes in his hands. He grins, under a dripping ink goatee, his teeth still perfectly white. His eyes told a story Hank didn’t understand. The left was an empty ink void, while the right was, by all accounts, normal, a nice shade of green. With his free hand he removed the white top hat from his head, revealing his hair, white on the sides, black on top, the black clearly ink that on occasion drips down. 

“Hank Jones. I’ve been waiting for you. “ the man spoke. 

“How...what year is it?” Hank asks. 

“1994. The president is Bill Clinton. I know of the outside world young Hank. But first allow me to introduce myself.” the figure stood from his throne and took a bow, “I am Joey Morgan Drew. Creator and God of this Studio. “ 

Joey straightened out, placing his hat back on his head, “and I have been waiting a long time for you.” 

“You..you are Joey Drew?” Hank looks up, astonished. 

“Well yes, who did you think I was? Bertie?” Joey laughs, despite Hank’s confused face.

“Who the heck is Bertie?” Hank thinks to himself. 

“No matter, I still have something to show you young Hank, things that I had meant for your grandfather to see, but alas I do believe the old man is dead now.” Joey simply shrugs to finish his sentence, death but a mere inconvenience for him now. 

“Yeah, so is my dad now.” Hank muttered under his breath. 

“Oh I would not worry too much about your father boy, death is but a temporary inconvenience here in my realm.” Joey grins, “now follow me” 

With every step Joey took, he left a train of ink footprints, easy enough for Hank to follow him. It came in handy, as Joey’s long legs gave him wide strides and allowed him to travel the studio much faster than poor Hank. 

“Where are we going?” Hank asks. 

“Now Mister Jones, what is the point of a surprise if you already know it?” Joey grins. 

Hank follows in silence as Joey takes him deeper into the bowels of the studio. 

Soon, Hank found himself at the end of a cave. Shocked, he turned around and looked at his surroundings. Only seconds earlier he was in the studio, now everything is stone, how he got there made Hank’s head hurt to think about. 

A couple feet head, the path ended in a large black puddle. Ink. 

“This...this heavenly liquid made everything possible. “ Joey smiled. 

One, singular pipe came from out of the puddle and through the cave roof. 

“We were working on expanding the studio. Digging deep into the Earth we were at first just trying to make space when we found this. I was the first to find out its magical properties. I drew a simple little Bendy with it, and to my astonishment it came to life, dancing across the paper. “ Joey smiled, bending down and skimming his hand across the ink. 

“When I found out the ink gave life, I decided to experiment with it. There were some disasters, and for quite some time everything was chaos. I hid for for a long while, waiting and working to find a way to control the ink. I finally did.” Joey turns and faces Hank. “you want your dad back?”

Hank raises his eyebrows, “uhmm...yes?” 

Without a change in expression, Joey snaps his fingers. The ink puddle begins to bubble, soon a hand bursts out of it, but not a human hand. 

Slowly, a new cartoon crawled out of the ink. Hank steps back. 

“N...no...come on man...no” Hank shakes his head as the cartoon slowly looks up.

“S...son?” It spoke.

“No...you aren’t my dad!” Hank shouts. 

Horace looks down at his cartoon hands, “what...what am i?”

“A cartoon my boy” Joey rolls his eyes, “the first time is always a bit of a shock I know.” 

Horace looks back up to Hank and then to Joey. 

“Put me back” Horace looks directly into Joey’s eyes, “put me back now.”

Joey smiles, “are you sure?”

Horace nods. 

Joey smirks and snaps, the cartoon before him melting into a puddle of ink. 

“Satisfying every time.” Joey watches the ink slowly rejoin the ocean behind him. “Every time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring the studio.

Hank shudders, backing himself into the cave wall. 

“dude...dude...I want to go home” Hank slowly slides down onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. 

“My dear boy, you cannot leave this place, not even my power allows that. All that are here are permanently stuck. Did you think that floor collapsing was purely incidental? No my boy, the studio as you now. “ Joey leans down and sets a hand on Hank’s shoulder, “but that is okay, for I shall protect you.” 

Hank looked up the the face of this ink man, expecting to see cruelty, but instead gifted compassion and care. 

With a sniffle, Hank slowly rises to his feet, “ok Mister Drew.” 

“My brave young man, you may call me Joey, Mister Drew is far to formal for my liking. “ Joey smiled and held out his hand. “Now come, we need to find you a room to stay in. “ 

Hank slowly takes Joey’s hand, taking a moment to notice the flesh of it still clean, untainted by ink. Hank looked down at his clothes, somehow they were still clean as well, not a drop of ink had landed on him. 

Joey raises an inky eyebrow, “hmm, the ink seems to avoid you my boy. This will be an interesting time for sure” 

Hank looked up to Joey’s eyes once more, the compassion now sharing space with an intense curiosity. 

Hank gasps, feeling ink wash over his body for an instant, then gone again. His eyes widen to see they no longer stood in the cave, but back in Joey’s office.

“What?” Hank could only mutter out this simple question as his eyes darted around the office in confusion. 

“My boy, I must leave you here for a while, I must go and get your room ready, I’m sure you are very tired now and need rest.” Joey gently pats Hank on the shoulder, “please wait here, but if you must go out please take this” Joey hands Hank his cane and smiles. 

Hank grips the cane tightly, “t-thank you Joey.” 

“My pleasure boy, I will return to you shortly” Joey grins kindly before walking out of the office. 

Hank stands in silence in the office, nothing but the slow drip of ink to fill the void. 

Soon, curiosity filled in and Hank ventured out of the office and back into the studio.   
This isn’t right. 

He remembered the path Bendy took him to get to Joey’s office, but this isn’t it. What he saw was best described as a carnival. Rows of games and flashing lights fill Hank’s eyes. 

It was stunning, beautiful even, but something about the sudden change made Hank uncomfortable. 

Animatronics in perfect condition of the various cartoons manned the game booths, each kindly waving at Hank as he slowly walked through the Midway. 

Hank stops walking, his eye taking notice of a tape recorder on the wall, marked “Bertrum Piedmont.” 

Hank reaches out and presses play on the recorder. 

“Ohh Mister Drew. Did you really think bringing back our bodies and minds was enough? No. We wanted freedom from your ink filled hell Drew. All that you have done is orchestrated your now inevitable downfall. You cannot silence us Mister Drew. We will not relent until this ink hell is no more, and you are in the ground.” 

As the recording played, each animatronic slowly stopped waving, their hands slowly descending to their sides. 

“Well well, I thought I heard someone playing that old thing” a staticy, southern, muffled voice came from behind Hank, making him jump. 

Hank quickly turns around and screams. Standing before him was a cyborg woman. Her left arm, legs, and right side of her face old clockwork machinery. 

“Wow wow their boy, what’s gotten you all riled up?” she asked. 

“What are you??” Hank asks. 

“What am i? Boy you are rude aren’t yah? My name is Lacie kid, i’m a mechanic. Well, i wus a mechanic before that damn ink came and messed up everythang here.” 

“Y..you were a mechanic...you were human?” Hank looks up to her eye. 

“Were? Boy I am still human! Just a bit more ink and gears now, but A’hm very much still human! Ol’ Mistah Drew did what he could to help everyone once we all done and settled down, showed us we could be whatever we wanted ta. I decided I might as well make my life in here a bit easier, be a bit more machine so ah can work on them all a bit easier. “ Lacie looked down at her mechanical arm. “Ah like it.” 

Hank narrows his eyes and looks at her, “huh...who was that guy?” He points at the recording.

“Oh Bertrum? He made this park, and everything in this place. He’s an architect, a genius, if not a bit mad cause of what happened. Listen kid, if ah can give yah any advice here, it’s don’t go down that there hallway alright? Just turn back and go the way you came, you don’t want to meet Bertrum now.” 

Hank looks down the hall with worry, just in his eyesight was a carousel, with lights and multiple arms, the faint sound of bells and clicking gears treat Hank’s ears. 

“Oh..ok Miss Lacie. “ Hank turns back to face her, “if you say so.” 

“Now go on kid, get out’a here!” She points back to where Hank came from. 

Hank nods and starts walking, “thank you Miss Lacie” 

“Sure thing Kid, i’ll see yah around!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suspicions.

Lacie continues walking down the Midway towards the glorious carousel at the end. The sound of soft, joyous organ playing echoes through the hallway in time with the various games playing on their own. 

“Hey Bertrum! “ Lacie calls out as she approaches the grand carousel. “Come on out! I need to talk to yah!” 

The ride creaks to life and begins to slowly spin. From its top, a panel opens, and a figure emerges. 

The man yawns and straightens his beige tophat. Bertrum stood tall in his completely white suit and beige tie. From his back came four large metal arms, ending in seats, just like the carousel. 

“Miss Benton, what can I do for you?” Bertrum politely removes his hat and bows. 

“There’s someone new in the workshop Bertrum, A kid. I think he might be Henry’s” 

Bertrum slowly raised an eyebrow, “Henry’s? Well I do suppose much time has passed since we became trapped in this eternal ink hell. Hmph, well where is he now?”

“I sent him back the other way, I think Drew’s already got his hands on ‘em. We probably need to back off for now” Lacie replied. 

Betrum narrows his eyes, “hmm, for the time being, a descendant of Henry would undoubtedly be an inquisitive one. He will return to us in due time. If he is a pure, untainted soul then he might be our key to freedom.” 

“Bertrum, what do you plan to do with that boy.” Lacie asks, her tone stern. 

“Nothing dangerous I assure you Ms. Benton. If this curse works as I suspect than the young Mister Jones should be enough to break us free. We just need to lead him to the heart of the studio, turn off the blasted machine at the source, that should free us. “ Bertrum slowly descends from the carousel and stands beside Lacie. 

“I swear Bertrum. If you harm this child in anyway I will kill you again and again, even mental boy, you understand?” Lacie steps closer, now inches away from Bertrum’s face. 

Bertrum grins, a metal arm suddenly coming by and throwing Lacie across the midway. “Miss Benton. Let me remind you who gave you your new form when you were nothing but ink. Let me remind you of who as power in this blasted place.” 

As Lacie groans and tries to stand up, two animatronics come and pin her back down. Bertrum slowly walks over to her as they lift her up and pin her against the wall. 

“Do I need to refresh your memory Miss Benton? Are those gears in your head jamming again?” Bertrum reaches up and grabs the clockwork side of her face, “let’s take a look inside shall we?” 

Lacie begins to struggle under the animatronic grasp. “B-bertie no.” 

Bertrum grins wide, “oh something is definitely wrong in there.” The room fills with the sound of grinding gears and ink splashes as Bertrum rips off the metal place of Lacie’s face. “You know better than to call me Bertie. “


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's the villain again?

Hank walks back into the office where Joey had left him. He looks around, surprised Joey wasn’t back yet. 

“Ah, so you are here” a woman’s voice breaks the silence behind Hank. 

He turns and faces her, recognizing her instantly, remembering the posters around the studio. 

“A-Alice Angel?”   
“Alice Campbell now my little cherub.” She smiles, she looked perfect, like the cartoon just freshly walked off the page. “After My lovely Mr. Drew came and saved us all, I was finally made perfect. No longer just Alice Angel, or Susie Campbell. I am both, I am perfect. And I am His.” 

She smiles once more, taking a deep breath and exhaling. “But you, my little cherub, you were already perfect. Henry’s grandson, look at you, not a single stain on you” She softly places a hand on his cheek, “perfect, in your special little way” 

Hank smiles, Alice being the first, normal looking person he’s met so far, with horns of course. She smiled back with such a tender sweetness, Hank momentarily forgot he was trapped in this ink hell. 

“M..Mr Drew is out finding me a room right now.” Hank shyly states. 

“Oh? How sweet of him, well I can wait here with you so you don’t feel so lonely. “ Alice smiles down at Hank, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

Hank smiles back, “thank you Miss Campbell.” 

“No problem little cherub” 

\-----

Bertrum stepped back to marvel at his work. A perfect Bendy animatronic. It was large, larger than the real Bendy, taller than Mister Drew himself. 

It was marvelous, cursed ink run through its pipes and veins, covering it’s back were long pipes, ending in syringes to suck the ink from it’s prey. 

“Oh Mister Drew, not even you will be prepared for this.” With a snap of his finger, the animatronic eyes illuminated, the gargantuan machine slowly stepping forward. “Thank you for your service Ms. Benton.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has one of my favorite lines in it, guess what it is?

Bertrum mutters to himself as he walks through the studio, his mechanical beast following closely behind. “HE will free us? No no you simpletons, I will free us. I am the one who will release us from this ink hell Mister Drew calls a kingdom. Me! ONLY ME!” 

“Bertie, you couldn’t even create your own character to try and kill me? You had to take my own?” Joey stood behind the animatronic, lightly rapping his knuckle against it. 

“Mister Drew...You are bold to come and confront me now.”   
“Why? Cause you made some robot to kill me...that’s fueled and filled entirely with ink? The substance I have complete control over?” Joey raises his eyebrows. 

Joey walks up to Bertrum, standing above him. Joey grins and flicks Bertrum’s hat off. 

Bertrum growls “KILL HIM!”

The machine lunges forward, then stops its hand inches away from the back of Joey’s head. 

Joey smiles, “ink Bertie. Ink.” With a flick of Joey’s wrist, Bertrum gets flung back into the wall, the pipes wrapping themselves around his metal arms. “Bertie Bertie. Do you need a reminder of how little you are here?”

The pipes slowly constrict around Bertrum’s body, ink slowly leaking out from them. SMACK, Joey’s hand slaps across Bertrum’s face. 

“Wait, why would I dirty my own hands with you? When you made a robot that is just perfect for this.” Joey grins, stepping aside as the robot walks closer, “you used Miss Benton to make this correct? Well, why don’t we let her say a few words” 

The machine shudders for a moment before leaning forward, a distant muffled voice comes from deep within it, “BERTRUM. YOU IDIOT. “ It’s large metal fist slams into Bertrum’s chest, the pipes behind him piercing his back. 

“You know Bertie, I learned people don’t like being forced into becoming something they are not.” Joey smiled as Lacie continued to pound Bertrum with her metal fists, each hit pushing the ride maker deeper into the wall. 

Joey smiles, enjoying the violent show before him. “Oh, Miss Benton one moment please!” 

Lucice stops, mid swing. She slowly turns and faces Joey. 

Joey smiles and steps up to Bertrum again. 

Bertrum grimaces at Joey’s face. 

“Bertie. You are never. EVER. Getting out of here. Never. “ He grins, the ink from his goatee and hair becoming less stable. “Now my conundrum is...do I just allow Miss Benton to continue beating you into an inky pulp? Or do I just return you to the ink pools myself? Hmm, Miss Benton you are free to keep beating him while I think”

Joey steps back and allows Lucie to continue beating the trapped architect. Joey smiles. 

Each hit sending a deep rumble through the studio, the pipes reverberating and shaking every time. 

Slowly, Lacie stops and steps back. 

“Aight, i got all that nonsense out’a mah system. “ She turns to Joey.

“Do you want your old body back?” Joey asks.

“Nah, this is fine.” She looks down at her ink stained hands, “kinda like it honestly” 

Joey nods, “so be it.” 

Lacie nods back and walks away, leaving Joey and Bertrum alone. 

Bertrum coughs, the bent and broken pipes cutting through his body. Joey grins lightly smacking his cheek. 

“Wakey wakey Bertie. You aren’t done yet.” Joey smiles. 

Bertrum groans, “burn in hell Drew.”

“Already there, and trust me,” Joey softly chuckles, “you don’t want to see me on fire”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Projetionist

Distant screams in the studio were still new to Hank, and still made him shiver. Alice sets a hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly, “some souls are still troubled here, even though Joey as tried freeing them all.” 

Hank shudders anyway, the sound of banging metal softly echoing in his ears.

“But...Joey said he can control the ink.” Hank looks up to Alice. 

“Oh he can, but not even he can cure some corrupted souls.” Alice replies. “I want to show you someone.” 

Hank looks away as Alice leads him down the hallway to the elevator. 

Hank holds her hand as they raise from the bottom levels of the studio, from the basement level of Joey’s office, to the maintenance level. Alice and Hank step out into the pool of ink that had flooded the entire level, Hank stared out in wonder to the maze before him. 

In the distance he could see light flickering, the sound of a projector’s clicks echoing through the halls. 

“Step in my cherub.” She gently nudges Hank forward. 

“Won’t you come with me?” He asks. 

“I cannot. The ink still tries to pull me, it burns me. I’ll wait here for you.” 

Hank frowns, but steps into the ink anyway. 

“His name is Norman, my dear. He won’t harm you, just don’t run” 

The doors close behind Hank as he ventures into the ink rivers flowing throughout the labyrinth. 

The occasional dead searcher scattered along the path made Hank shudder in fear, the ink sloshing by his feet sending chills along his body. 

Hank stops dead in his track, light suddenly washed over him. The Projectionist standing before him, no longer lurched over but standing straight. It tilts its head, the projector clicks growing faster. 

“h..hi...Norman?” Hank asks. 

The Projectionist slowly steps forward, the light gets brighter. A low wheeze escapes the speaker attached to its chest, followed by a voice, muffled and fading “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“Y..yeah I know...you can speak?” 

“It’s hard to do, but yeah, I can talk.” It stood close to Hank, towering above him. 

Hank stumbles back, “y..you are a very big guy.” Hank stutters out. 

The Projectionist moves as if he was laughing, but no sound came from his speaker except static. 

“Maybe...maybe. Or maybe you are just small.” It responded. 

As the Projectionist stepped forward once more, Hank fell back into the ink river. The darkness washing over him, but just as fast as it did, the darkness left, Hank found himself being held up by Joey. 

Joey raised an eyebrow, “The young Jones. I thought I told you to wait in my office. “  
“What? Where am I?” Hank asks as Joey gently lets him down. 

“Why in my office my boy. “ Joey smiles. 

“How…”

Joey chuckles. “You fell into the ink and passed out my dear boy, Norman fished you out and brought you to me. “ 

Hank holds his own arms close to his chest, “oh…” 

“Don’t fret my boy, just rest for now, I’m sure that must have been a horrific experience. “ 

Hank slowly nods, making his way to the cot and laying down, the sounds of a piano playing softly in the distance easing his anxious mind.


	10. Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was done with this, but inspiration struck! Enjoy!

The Projectionist falls to his knees as he splashes through the ink, before his very light the boy fell into the ink, and never returned. 

His screech shook the walls as the revelation of his failure came into his mind. The former employee grips his head, anguish covering his body more than the ink. 

“Get up Norman” Bertrum lightly taps his back. “I know where he is” 

The Projectionist turns up to the ride maker and slowly rises to his feet. “Where” his voice statically comes through his speaker. 

“Where do you think? With Drew.” Bertrum keeps walking. Leaving the Projectionist behind. 

The lumbering ink beast follows behind, “are you planning on rescuing him?” he asks. 

“Of course I am! I am the Great Bertrum Piedmont! Unlike Mister Drew, the joy of children is what I truly work for!” 

“How?” 

Bertrum stops walking and turns to face Norman, “why the ink machine of course! When young Hank came into the studio, he came with his father, Horace! Horace was the son of Henry! Unfortunately, Horace perished in the walls in the studio, pierced by the cursed pipes! That dreaded Drew pulled him from the ink pools as a perfect toon. He went back into the pools, but the machine would never allow a soul to stay in the ink forever, it’s fate that he will be brought back. We must great him when he returns, let him know his son is in danger.” 

The Projectionist nods “sounds good” 

\-----

Norman and Bertrum make their way to the massive Ink Machine corridor where the new toons were being printed. As they enter a tube opens up, and a fresh toon steps out. It’s hair was braided, a thick bushy mustache over a frowning mouth. It’s pie-cut eyes look around the room and see Bertrum and Norman. It looked down at it’s ink stained hands, to its clothes. A pair of black overalls, a white button up shirt and black bowtie. 

“Horace is it?” Bertrum asks. 

“Yeah, that’s me. Who are you?” Horace responds, clenching his fists. 

“I am the Great Bertrum Piedmont, this kind gentlemen next to me is Norman Polk. We are here to acquire your assistance. “ 

Norman steps close to Horace. It’s speaker slowly creaks to life “will you help us save your son?”

Horace looks up to Norman’s projection machine head. He narrows his eyes and steps forward “what do you mean save my son?”

“Young Hank is currently in the hands of a mister Joey Drew. A cruel and deceptive man who only wishes to cause harm onto your son. With your help though, we may be able to save him, free him maybe from this ink hell. “

“And me?” Horace asks. 

“I am afraid that is not possible. You are a cartoon now Mister Stein. The curse on the studio is the only thing keeping you alive. If you were to leave you would probably just fade away. “ Bertrum explains. 

“And where is my son now?” Horace’s gaze return to his hands. He stared at every individual pencil stroke that now made up his body. 

“Joey’s Office” Norman answers. He points out of the machine “this way.” 

Horace nods and starts walking “come. Let’s go do this!”


	11. Dark Ocean 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm Back!

Sammy had long decided to return to the form he took when the curse first struck. A body of dripping ink, the mask of his saviour, and overalls to cover his shame. It just felt right to him, to be one with the ink. He still took his banjo with him everywhere, playing it whenever he felt a tune rise, but with peace, in the studio, there was no longer a need for him to patrol. So he would sit in his sanctuary, playing lovely music and singing to the wind as much as his heart pleased. 

“Oh Lawrence, some things never change.”

A bolt of fear shot up Sammy’s spine as a familiar voice enters his holy sanctuary. But why? Why does it fill him with fear? Sammy slowly turns around to face Henry, standing in the doorway, ink from the walls and floors seemingly floating to him. Why does Sammy fear? Why is his body filled with dread, like He had done something to this man? Sammy hasn’t seen Henry since he left the studio so many years back, and yet here he was, looking only slightly older than he should. 

Henry takes a step into the musician’s room with a low grin across his face “remember me Sammy? I remember you. Funny how you decided to stay in this ink mess when everyone else wanted to look more human. But you always did stand out” 

“H...Henry...you...you’re….” Sammy groans and grips his head as visions flood his mind, visions of himself, of actions he’s never done, but feel so real. The man before him tied up begging for his life, his Saviour killing him and casting him back into the inky darkness, revenge and death...all him, yet not. 

“Alive? Yeah, I’m still alive. I bet you want to be free, don’t you? Everyone does, but I got bad news for you Sam, “ Sammy’s own ink body betrayed him, his own hand gripping his throat and clenching. “No body gets out. “ 

Gagging, Sammy swings his banjo at Henry, the elderly man catching the instrument with his free hand and snatching out of the musician's grip. Henry reaches out and draws Sammy’s ink to him, pulling it in until only the mask and a pair of overalls remain. 

\-----------

JM gasps as he finally reaches the shore, pulling himself out of the ink sea with the help of Hank and Horace. 

“What happened? Norman rushed to find us as soon as you were pulled under” Horace helps JM to his feet. 

“Henry...he’s here...alive, but changed…” 

“What? How…. he died, I was at his funeral!” Horace shouts, “what do you mean my dad is alive??”

“Your dad?” Henry laughs “oh boy Joey what kind of shit is this?” Horace and Hank turn around and face Henry, JM stepping back, trembling in fear. 

“What are you talking about?” JM stutters out. 

“I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU!” Henry shouts, “I’m talking to the real Joey! And let me tell you, his middle name ain't Morgan. Doubt he even has a middle name.” 

Hank slowly approaches Henry “grandpa?”

“Oh you’ve got to be joking Joey….grandpa? HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN HERE JOEY? HUH? HOW LONG?”

“What are you talking about?” JM asks again, desperate for an answer. 

“Don’t speak to me you pathetic imitation. I’ve been through this stupid loop so many god damn times everything different now. By the hundredth loop, the studio changed, I remembered all the previous, and you were there. Not YOU you, but a Joey. He was a ginger, didn’t recognize me. Said his Henry was asian….I got through that one, next one was black like me, snow white hair, blue suit, each loop was a different Joey, a different studio...until I got to this one, and no matter how many loops I do here, I haven’t gotten to a new studio…” 

“Henry you sound psychotic..” JM slowly approaches. 

“I tried killing the real Joey.” Henry chuckles, “didn’t work. I stepped through the door back into the studio, got out and he was there again...I’m trapped forever.”


End file.
